


By Any Other Name

by murdershegoat



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Cute, F/F, Florists, Romance, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26878489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdershegoat/pseuds/murdershegoat
Summary: "The shop is small, basically just a hole in the wall, filled to the brim with flowers of every colour and size. Somewhere out of view, a muffled speaker plays a Top 40 radio station. But best of all, among the flowers and vases, is Kara Danvers. She stands at the counter, focusing intently on the bouquet she’s putting together -- her brow is furrowed and her glasses are pushed up uncomfortably close to her eyes. Lena is hit with an overwhelming fondness."or,Lena builds up the courage to ask her florist on a date.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 30
Kudos: 658





	By Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't posted anything since may i am so sorry my life is whacky tobaccy atm.
> 
> technically this isnt new either lmao, i wrote it for the supercorp zine which raised a tonne of money this year!!!!!!!!!!!

If she doesn’t ask out Kara soon, Jess is going to resign.

  
  


At least, that’s what she’s been threatening to do for the better part of a year. Lena thinks she’s 

probably, most likely kidding.

  
  


She isn’t sure she wants to push it, though.

  
  


There’s no way she can end up assistantless AND single. What a nightmare.

  
  


Today’s the day, Lena decides, getting out of the car. Today’s the day she’ll ask Kara out on a date.

  
  


The flower shop stands out against the rest of the neighbourhood, the same way it has for years. While the other buildings had succumbed to gentrification years ago, the flower shop has remained the way it always has, exactly how Old Man Danvers opened it all those years ago.

  
  


Sure, it could use some paint, maybe a new sign and updated plumbing. But it’s perfectly quaint and charming without all of that, and Lena smiles as she opens the door and breathes in deeply. She’s used to the oral smell, although it does still catch her off guard from time to time. It used to remind her of a long time ago, of small modest homes and faceless maternal love. But now, in an almost Pavlovian way, her heart races ever so slightly when she inhales.

The shop is small, basically just a hole in the wall, filled to the brim with flowers of every colour and size. Somewhere out of view, a muffled speaker plays a Top 40 radio station. But best of all, among the flowers and vases, is Kara Danvers. She stands at the counter, focusing intently on the bouquet she’s putting together -- her brow is furrowed and her glasses are pushed up uncomfortably close to her eyes. Lena is hit with an overwhelming fondness.

  
  


“Working hard?” she asks in lieu of a greeting.

  
  


Kara looks up from her handiwork, smiling broadly. “Lena! I wasn’t expecting you for another hour or so.” 

  
  


“I gave myself an early mark. I’ve had quite the day.”

  
  


‘A day’ is an understatement. She’s spent most of it dealing with what she and Jess call Lex Press; finding the perfect balance between publicly admonishing your brother’s actions whilst trying to not get kicked out of the family group chat has always been hard. Lex’s latest escapades were even harder to handle than usual.

“I heard you on the radio,” Kara replies, “your statement was good, heartfelt. Family stuff... is complicated, and I bet the public eye doesn’t help.”

For a moment she wonders if Kara can read minds. To be honest, she wouldn’t be surprised if Kara  _ did  _ have superhuman powers. She always has the air of somebody extraordinarily impressive, in the type of way that makes Lena feel inadequate and small. And when she says things that make Lena feel seen and heard and understood, Lena’s stomach winds itself into a knot, like a schoolgirl with a crush.

_ I want to take you out for dinner _ , Lena practices saying in her head.  _ I want to go on a date with you _ .

Lena waits awkwardly as Kara nishes the arrangement she’s working on with a final, satisfied sigh. She looks up at Lena, her eyes bluer than a midday sky, and the words that Lena wants to say lodge in her throat, refusing to be said.

“I was thinking maybe some Forget Me Nots,” she finally manages to get out. Except as she speaks, so does Kara.

“I need to tell you something.”

“You do?”

“It’s something important,” Kara fidgets, as though she’s as anxious as Lena.  _ Maybe she’s going to ask  _ **_me_ ** _ out _ , Lena thinks, biting her lip.

“It might not be something you’re expecting to hear...”

_ Here it comes _ .

“... and it might come as a bit of a shock...”

_ Ha, Jess can’t quit now _ .

“... and I don’t want it to change our relationship in any way...”

_ Oh my god, it’s really happening _ .

“I can’t sell you flowers anymore.”

_ Oh _ .

“Um. Okay?” Lena’s not sure what else to say; she’s never had a vendor break up with her before. “May I ask... why?”

Kara can’t even look her in the eye. She pretends to fix the perfect bouquet that sits in front of her. “Like, ethically... morally... I can’t continue selling you flowers.”

And with that, the other shoe drops. Because of course.

Another relationship ruined because of Lex Luthor.

Lena had always thought Kara was different, but maybe she’s been wrong this whole time.

She walks to the door slowly, before pausing. 

No. 

She’s not letting go that easily.

Hand on the doorknob, she turns around to face Kara, who at least has the decency to look upset.

“I won’t fight you on this,” Lena says softly. “But just know this. I have spent my entire life facing judgement because of my last name. I’ve lost friends, business, you name it, just because people look at me and only see my brother and his hatred. But that is not my legacy. I am a good person. My company does good things for this world. Shame on you for not being able to look past me being a Luthor.”

She stares defiantly at Kara, shoulders thrown back and chest puffed out, unsure if she’s waiting for a fight or for an apology. Kara stares right back at her, confusion written all over her pretty, pretty face.

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’?”

“I couldn’t care less about your family. No offence,” she adds hastily. “You being a Luthor has nothing to do with this.”

It feels like her heart drops in her chest, the crushing realisation that maybe this  _ is  _ because of her. Maybe she’s just as bad as her family, overbearing and rude and impossible to deal with.

“But I don’t hate you, Lena. God. I could never hate you. It’s just...” “What? What is it?”

“You’re a plant killer.”

“Ex _ cuse  _ me??”

“My bouquets can last up to two weeks, that’s a fact. And the potted plants I sell could last a lifetime if you take good enough care of them. And yet somehow I’m selling you produce almost every single day? There’s no way you should need replacement flowers or plants as fast as you’re buying them. How can I continue to sell my pride and joy to somebody who can’t take proper care of them? I just... I can’t ignore this anymore.”

Lena doesn’t know whether she wants to laugh or cry. Because this stupidly gorgeous, kind, funny woman thinks she’s a plant murderer. An overwhelming fondness for Kara wraps around her, like tendrils slowly creeping up a trellis, making her chest feel warm and her heart happy.

“Kara,” Lena says, bemused, “I’m not a plant murderer.” 

“You’re not?”

“My apartment looks like a jungle, and so does my office for that matter. And my assistant and her friends all have the most oxygenated apartments in National City. I have what any sane person would describe as ‘way too many flowers.’ I’m not killing them. Hell, sometimes I wish I  _ could  _ kill them and free up some space.”

“Well then why do you keep buying them?” She looks at Lena as though she’s hoping for a specific answer, searching for it in Lena’s face with her blue, magnificent eyes.

“I-” she hesitates.

“Why do you keep coming back?”

“I wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

Kara frowns. “Why would you need an excuse?”

“Because,” Lena replies, her mind melting into mush the more she stared into Kara’s eyes. “Because I think if I’m ever forced to stop talking to you, I might die.”

“That’s--”

“I know, I sound insane. But... if I see you on my way to work, I think about you all day. And if I decide to drop by in the evenings, I spend all my time thinking about what I’m gonna say when I get here and wondering how many times you’re gonna smile at me. I just. I don’t know what I’d do without my favourite part of every day.”

Kara smiles, and it’s as though a weight lifts off Lena’s shoulders. “Has anybody ever told you that you’re very dramatic?”

“Every day of my life.”

And then Lena thinks she may have died. Because Kara says,

“I think about you, too. Way too often. All the time. I order in flowers I know you’d like. I open the store every morning wondering when I’ll get to see you. I mean, it’s been a year, and you still make me so damn nervous every time you walk through that door.”

“ _ I  _ make  _ you  _ nervous?” Lena scoffs.

Kara shrugs. “You’re pretty spectacular, man.”

Neither of them are sure how to move past the confessions that lie between them. Lena tries to wrap her head around it all, though nothing makes sense. In what universe could Kara - the patron saint of Sunshine - ever have feelings for Lena and her raincloud life?

But maybe Lena can learn how to be sunshine. And maybe she can be brave.

“Kara?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you, please?” It’s a question she’s been dying to ask for the better part of a year, one she’s thought about every time she’s entered the shop.

Kara doesn’t answer. Instead she takes three long strides, covering the space between them. Up this close, Lena can see just how blue Kara’s eyes are. She can see the freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. Smell her perfume, the one that manages to still cut through a store filled with flowers.

They’re not real friends, and yet, they’re not quite strangers either. But Lena feels  _ nervous  _ nervous. First day of school nervous. Coming out to your best friend nervous. Meeting your girlfriend’s parents for the first time nervous.

But then Kara leans in and kisses her and it’s as though every nerve in her body can only feel one thing: Kara. For a moment, Lena forgets how to breathe and her heart forgets how to beat and she is still against a universe that tumbles around her and the woman in her arms.

And then they’re both yanked back to reality as Kara’s landline blares from the back room. Kara sighs, resting her forehead against Lena’s.

“I need to go get the phone,” Kara whispers, though she sounds as though that’s the last thing she wants to do. She presses a quick kiss against Lena’s lips before disappearing into the back of the shop. It feels intimate, just as intimate as the longer kiss they had shared. Somehow, kissing Kara already feels like a habit Lena can’t shake, an addiction, a necessity.

She takes the time without Kara in the room to catch her breath and smooth out her clothes. God, she’s such an idiot for falling this fast. Her mother would call her lovesick and foolish, she’d tell her that a Luthor never reveals their emotions before another, that confessing silly little secrets and dating a florist is beneath the empire that the family has built.

Not for the first time in her life, Lena promptly ignores the little voice in the back of her head that sounds like Lillian Luthor.

Because Kara is wonderful and kind, and if things go well, she will be in Lena’s life for a very long time.

“Sorry about that,” Kara says as she reappears, her face still flushed. “I just got a huge order I have to get out in the next hour. I’m so sorry--”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lena assures her. “But let me take you to dinner tonight? You can choose the restaurant.”

“It’s a date,” Kara smiles.

“Pick me up at 7.30,” Lena says, feeling a hell of a lot braver than she did earlier this evening. “My address should be in your delivery book.”

She hovers by the door, not wanting to leave, despite the fact she’s going to see Kara in a couple of hours. And it’s as though Kara can sense her hesitation -- or perhaps, she herself feels some form of it -- because she turns to one of the vases near her and rustles.

She emerges again, holding out a single red rose for Lena to take.

“One last flower,” Kara says. “I don’t want to overwhelm your apartment with any more.”

Lena takes it with a small thank you, and with one last goodbye (and a kiss on the cheek) she leaves the shop.

She doesn’t bother calling for her car. Instead she walks the few blocks back to her apartment with a smile on her face.

She even takes time along the way to stop and smell the roses. 

**Author's Note:**

> im on twitter and tumblr @murdershegoat


End file.
